


in dreams this rain was red

by Chiropter



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, major spoilers for bbl route and holiday star, probably set in the shrine au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiropter/pseuds/Chiropter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met in the rain, contrasted like clouds and sky, and Hitori wondered whether two grey things could somehow make a rainbow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in dreams this rain was red

**Author's Note:**

> commission for skyskyzyz (and minguchi) on tumblr, who wanted quail boyfriends where things don't go terribly wrong

The day Hitori Uzune met Kazuaki Nanaki, it was raining.

The sky was dark grey, and clouds swelled like waves across it, spraying the city below with drizzle. It had been on and off like this all day. Hitori’s coat hardly provided protection; he was soaked, fabric clinging to his skin despite the umbrella clutched in his hand.

The boy standing beside him at the bus stop was worse off. He was frail in stature and his cheekbones stuck out as he shivered, drawing his scarf up around his face to keep the rain out of his eyes. His hair hung limp across his forehead, drenched by the earlier storm, and he was wearing nothing to keep him warm save a crumpled hoodie he’d clearly slept it. The umbrella in his hand could barely be called that anymore, and he was shaking it out with a rather forlorn look on his face.

He looked… vaguely familiar. Hitori wondered if he was a regular at one of his jobs, or perhaps in one of his classes. He wouldn’t know, even if they sat right next to each other. In general, he kept his head down, rushing home after every lecture. He found himself wondering how someone could let their clothes get so soaked, how they could break their umbrella so badly in such little wind, and part of him, somewhere, sneered.

A stranger was still a human, he reminded himself. Nageki had taught him that. He cleared his throat.

“Ah. Excuse me.”

The boy started violently, barely raising his head despite how far his eyes widened. Hitori wanted to laugh, or at the very least roll his eyes, but he adjusted himself and put on his warmest smile.

“You look cold. Would you like to share my umbrella?”

The stranger looked more than cold, actually- he looked _miserable_ , as if the rain had burrowed under his very skin. His face was waxy and drawn, and the light that sparked off his blue eyes became somehow duller as it hit them, more diluted. He leaked a sort of greyness that blended into the clouded sky, and he seemed surprised to have been noticed at all.

“U-um,” he pointed to himself hesitantly, fingers shaking, “you mean me?”

‘ _There isn’t a single other person or creature I could mean,_ ’is what Hitori thought, but all he said was:

“Come on. I’ll even walk you home.”

\---

He didn’t learn the boy’s name that time. He only realised later, absently telling Nageki about the incident over a cup of hot soup, and the small twinge of guilt he felt was more due to his brother’s chiding pout than sympathy for that strange young man in the rain. Nageki made him promise to be friendlier next time, and Hitori agreed, on the condition Nageki take his medicine and a hot bath. He shooed him into the bathroom, not missing the amused roll of his brother’s eyes as the door closed behind him.

He’d given away the umbrella, in the end. There was mud on the sofa that needed to be washed out, and his hair smelt like cheap shampoo- he’d need to take a shower once Nageki was finished in the bath. He set about scrubbing the cushions, plans for tomorrow’s breakfast pushing all thoughts of the stranger out of his head.

\---

The rain still hadn’t cleared by morning. Hitori let Nageki take the remaining umbrella, choosing to cover himself with a waterproof poncho instead until he got to class. It attracted a few titters from classmates, and he wondered idly whether they were laughing with or at him, whether it mattered. Maybe that was up to him.

Hm. Perhaps he should have taken philosophy.

The large clock over the university had just passed half eight. His lecture didn’t start until nine, so he decided, after quickly checking the state of his shoes and hair, to head to the nearest bathroom to dry off. It was incredibly empty in the corridors, and his soles echoed off the stone floor, cutting through the pleasant morning silence like a drumbeat.

It surprised him, then, when opening the bathroom door provided him with sudden accompaniment. Something else was ringing off the mirrors, and for one bizarre moment he thought it might be singing; it was high and warbling, musical in the most ethereal sense. Another moment and the sound became more familiar.

Someone was crying.

He couldn’t help it- the sound shot through him almost painfully, and concern welled up in his chest, unbidden. A child, was it? The voice was deeper than a child’s, though, and there was little to no reason for anyone but students and professors to be here so early in the morning. The worry calmed slightly, settling in his belly.

“…Hello?”

His voice, harsh in the echoing room, came out louder than he’d intended, and the crying took a sharp upwards spike in pitch. Hitori cursed under his breath.

“Ah- h-hello, sorry, I’m just-“

It was an incredibly quiet voice, considering the volume of its sobs, and there was something about it he recognised. Hitori moved closer to the door of the stall it came from, and thought he saw a shadow move in the gap beneath it. He blinked.

“Are you alright in there?”

The voice _squeaked_.

“Y-yes! I’m just, uh, I’m almost done!” There was a noise like a badly tuned trumpet as the stranger blew his nose, and a faint scratching as he fumbled with the latch.

If possible, he looked even more of a mess than he had in the rain. His clothes hung loose around him and his hair matted and stood up in all the most visible places. His eyes were red and puffy, despite the sick-looking smile he attempted, and his fingers trembled violently as he raised them to brush more hair into his face, covering his eyes.  Panic flitted over his features as his eyes found Hitori’s.

“You’re-?”

To his own bemusement, Hitori found that he wasn’t surprised. It almost seemed to make _sense_ , that he’d meet this man again. He adopted a gentle smile with ease.

“Hitori Uzune. I believe we’ve met before?”

\---

He learned that the man’s name was Kazuaki Nanaki, and that he was older than he looked- twenty-two, a couple of years older than Hitori himself. He _had_ , he admitted with some embarrassment, been crying; but it was over nothing really, he assured with a wave of his hands, just the usual. The way he said it implied that it had of course been _something_ , but for now Hitori let it be. He asked Kazuaki to meet him after his morning classes, reminding him about the umbrella when he looked like he wanted to refuse. He left the bathroom only a little dryer than he’d been when he entered it.

He found Kazuaki in the library, as per their hurried arrangement. His head was still buzzing with exciting thoughts about magnetism, and, really, he wanted to go home and start on his research- but Nageki made him promise, and he hated to disappoint him. He closed his eyes briefly, pushing the smart board diagrams out of his head.

Kazuaki was sitting in a back corner, fidgeting with his hands under one of the library desks. There was an open textbook placed, untouched, in front of him, and his eyes scanned the room nervously. He started when he saw Hitori, but gave him a nervous smile and waved him over.

“I-I wasn’t sure you’d come,” was the first thing he said as Hitori sat down, and Hitori found himself ever so slightly irritated by the statement. Honestly- to be distrustful and meek like this was far from charming to him. Still, Nageki had wanted him to be friendly. He gave a small laugh.

“How could I fail to meet you? I couldn’t stand to see such a pretty face so sad.”

He wasn’t _quite_ sure why Kazuaki flushed.

“Oh… um… I wasn’t, really, I mean…” Kazuaki dipped his head, still bright red, and mumbled, “I don’t h-have anything to cry about, so you shouldn’t trouble yourself over someone like me…”

Hitori couldn’t tell if his sympathy dropped or escalated, but something in his gut twinged painfully. In a way, this boy reminded him of his brother. In a way, he reminded him of himself.

( _Ah. Really, now, Hitori. You can’t compare to Nageki, for in your case it is absolute truth._ )

He wondered how much Kazuaki deserved his stutter. Wondered if the plasters on his forearm signified atonement.

\---

“I’m home, Nageki.”

There was no reply from inside the house, and Hitori’s brain flashed with dark images; Nageki’s broken body at the bottom of the stairs, Nageki slumped over in the bath, overheated, Nageki burned to a crisp from mishandling the stove… it’s his fault, for being late, you should never ever ever leave the things you value, you fool-

Behind him, Kazuaki made a quiet, uncertain noise, and Hitori took a deep breath. Irrational. This happened every day, and every day, Nageki was fine. He stepped inside and hung up his coat.

Nageki, it turned out, was in the front room, curled up in his favourite beanbag with a book hanging off his lap and his mouth slightly open. The two men crept in as silently as possible, Kazuaki afraid of disrupting another’s home and Hitori keen to let his brother catch some well-earned sleep.

“Is that boy a friend of yours?” Kazuaki asked him over tea. He’d been silent a while now, apparently working up to the question, and it struck Hitori that perhaps he should have said something rather than leave him here alone while the kettle boiled. He tilted his head.

“He’s my brother, actually. We’ve been living together since we were young.”

Kazuaki blinked at the strange statement- didn’t most brothers live out their childhoods together?- but Hitori’s expression didn’t shift even slightly, so he let it go with a certain embarrassment.

“A-ah, that must be nice. Having someone to come home to…”

They fell into silence for a while. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but nonetheless, it felt out of place. In his corner, Nageki rolled over, pressing his face into the beanbag.

“Um. Uzune?”

Hitori, lost in observing his brother, looked up with mild surprise- to see Kazuaki staring at the sleeping boy just as he had been.

“Mm?”

“Could I… do you think I could come here again?”

His hands as he said it were clearly trembling, and his knuckles were pale from how tight he clenched his palms. Nevertheless, his eyes were resolute. He stared down at his lap as if determined to burn right through it.

“I see no reason you shouldn’t. You study classics and linguistics, isn’t that right? My subjects are entirely the other end of the spectrum, so I’d be interested to talk some more,” he smiled, the first genuine one he’d given anyone but Nageki in what felt like years, “I think we can learn from each other.”

And, as Kazuaki sniffed deeply and fought back tears, Hitori thought about the children he’d let die, and the one who’d saved his soul. It was only right it should be his turn now.

Very well, then.

If Hitori Uzune was a sinner, perhaps Kazuaki Nanaki would be his redemption.


End file.
